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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961048">Bub</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes'>Fictropes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:56:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictropes/pseuds/Fictropes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a normal Saturday night when Dan lets it slip.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>196</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bub</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a normal Saturday night when Dan lets it slip. Curled up on the sofa. Takeaway they maybe hadn't budgeted for—this new Manchester apartment a step up from the first. But it’s alright, because they’ve got a bottle of red wine of which Dan’s had a bit too much. He’d gotten all handsy, ended up with Phil’s come on his fingers. And now Phil feels all stupid, all melted into the cushions. Dan’s speaking to him about something, but it’s something his brain isn’t really registering right now. He feels too floaty, the words just a pretty noise from a pretty man who’d gotten him off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Dan is good, knows Phil isn’t doing it on purpose—he can just be like that sometimes. He can lose track, switch off a bit too easily, stop listening because he’s thinking about stupid things. Like how he can just stare at Dan and see the future. The blueprint for who they’re going to be is in Dan’s smile, in the way he’s always practically sat on top of Phil when there’s no need. He knows they’re good, that they’re always going to be good. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So he’s thinking about that instead of actually listening to Dan, but it’s fine because Dan is doing one of his bits. His rants. Speaking just because he wants to speak, not because he really wants anyone to listen. Needs to get all the thoughts out of his mind and Phil just being there is enough. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he’s done he’ll snap Phil out of his little watching Dan trance, bring him back into the room and out of weird thoughts about houses and joint career plans. But sometimes they’re weird thoughts about aliens, or milk… or aliens being milked. They’re the times when Phil feels a bit guilty, because surely Dan is saying something more important than that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But today he doesn’t get the gentle jab to the rib, or Dan’s face right up in his own. Today he gets something new. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Phil.” Dan says. “You alright over there, bub?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now Phil really does feel like he’s floating, maybe even left the planet. But it had only been a handjob, surely not enough to actually catapult him off to Mars. Not that Dan isn’t good, he is. It’s just—this is new. This is something he thought Dan wasn’t in to. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He elbows his way up into sitting, thinks this is probably something that requires him to not be a pile of goo on the sofa cushions. Phil needs to know Dan’s stance on this, needs to know if he’ll hear it again because he sort of <em>thinks</em> he likes it—a lot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bub?” Phil smiles. “You just call me bub?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I—no? Bud, I think.” But Dan’s cheeks are red with an obvious lie. “Yeah. Bud.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No? Definitely sounded like something else to me.” Phil wants to tease, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when he feels so sincere about it, not when it’s something he might’ve been thinking about for a while. Just something for them to both use in the apartment, when it’s just the two of them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Dan tries to argue, but he’s gone all whiny like he does. “Pet names aren’t like an us thing, are they?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Phil asks, a hand resting on Dan’s knee—an attempt at reassurance. He never wants Dan to be hesitant, to hold anything back. And this seems like a small thing but it’s still important, because it clearly matters to Dan who’s now jiggling his leg beneath Phil’s fingertips. “I liked it, was cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You did?” Dan’s gaze snaps up to Phil so quickly he’s surprised it doesn’t end in whiplash. “You’re not just saying that to stop me from, like, crying cos I’m so fucking wine drunk?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Phil thinks it over, tries to figure out how he can join in and prove it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So you actually…?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Babe.” Phil tries, but it’s flat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus.” Dan laughs. “That was said with all the enthusiasm of—I don’t even fucking know. You sounded like a serial killer. Like the most upset babe in the history of that word existing.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shutup!” Phil whines. “I’m trying to come up with something that sounds good.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So we can cross babe of the list.” Dan scoots around until he’s all comfy, sat cross legged with Phil’s hand still on his knee. And maybe Phil’s left it there to secretly leach heat, or maybe he’s just in love. “Any others you wanna try?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Honey?” Phil asks, but his voice goes all weird and high like it’s physically rebelling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s so gay, like the delivery of it.” Dan’s still all dimples though, leaning into Phil’s space like they’re a pair of magnets. “You have to look like you’ve not just sucked a lemon when you’re saying it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe I just love sucking lemons?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have the tastebuds of a fucking— a literal child.” Dan tips his head toward the kitchen, where Phil knows is a cupboard filled to the brim with stuff his dentist would murder him for. Maybe Dan living with him was a mistake, now he’s learning all Phil’s proper downfalls as a human being. But—no. That’s stupid. He couldn’t imagine this space without Dan in it, his own life without the constant of this new arrangement.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Children... love lemons?” Phil tries, but the cow bite to the knee tells him Dan can definitely see through the obvious lies he tells. “Stop knowing me so well!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Know you inside and out, bub.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Phil smiles, or rather he fucking beams. That weird <em>I might like it</em> feeling now a proper <em>I love it</em> feeling. “Say it again.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Bub?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not even like— traditional? Like babe or whatever. It’s... very you, like it.” And that’s probably it, he couldn’t imagine any one but Dan being able to pull it off. “Sweet pea?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking hell.” Dan snorts. “Absolutely not. I’m not your grandson.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hope not.” Phil’s nose wrinkles.“I’ll workshop it. Give me a few weeks.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to, like... just Dan sounds better coming from your mouth than anyone else’s.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://fictropes.tumblr.com/post/645283283747340288/bub-complete-1025-t-its-a-normal-saturday">if u wanna reblog on tumblr! I always appreciate it 🦀</a>
</p><p> </p><p>i decided... dan been saying it for many years. as always, lemme know your thoughts!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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